Master of the Universe and convicted felon Peter Brant, who exchanged a fifteen year sentence on insider trading for an eight month one by ratting out R. Foster Winans, the WSJ reporter Brant paid to plant stories in “Heard on the Street”, [update - different Peter Brant - see post above - "felon" still applies, as does "ex-convict"] has erected a huge ( 6 meters – doesn’t that violate the town’s height restrictions?) statue of Santa Claus holding a butt plug on the polo field at Conyers Farm, the better to greet Conyers Farm residents, children watching polo and passers-by on North Street. What an odd, pathetic little man this Brant is! Unable to hold on to his trophy wife, Stefanie Seymour, he made a trophy of her nude bust (and wasn’t that an ill-advised modeling moment, Stef?) and has mounted it in his home to torment their children. Now he’s spent a million bucks or more to publicy exhibit his taste for anal-play. Was this a pleasure he discovered in prison or earlier, at prep school? It doesn’t matter, but I’m astonished anyone, even a crooked midget, would so willingly display an inability to spend money wisely, a complete lack of taste and a private pecadillo more usually indulged in in private or on Provincetown beaches. Has this guy always been insane or is he sinking into early-Alzheimer’s? And here’s a question: will he light this up come Christmas to compete with John Paul Tudor Jone’s Belle Haven display?
UPDATE: Hmmm – things are getting nasty up there at the North Pole. In recent court filings, Peter complains that his vycodan-fueled wife has been smashing some of his artwork and sneaking other pieces out a hole she cut through the fencing on North Street. I’ll bhet Santa and his toy are safe, but if Steph’s taken a hammer to her bust, good for her. Hubby also complains that the bitch is spending something like $225,000 a month on clothes and accessories which, I’m sorry to admit, sounds unreasonable, even for this lady.